The Weight of the World
by Shmeeko
Summary: Time and Distance gained no victory against their love.  No matter the weeks, the months, the years, together - and apart - they made it work.  He would give the world for them.


"Daddy!"

The happy call broke through the haze of smoke that floated lazily over the heads of the Sandgoose's customers. A child scampered through the double doors, expertly navigating her way around the tables to the one where a large man sat hunched over his drink. He smiled to her, took a sip from his mug and spoke, his voice hushed.

"What are you doing here, Catherine?" he asked, "you know this is no place for children."

"Come on, dad, let's go somewhere fun!" the little girl tugged at one of her father's massive hands. It only took a few heartfelt pulls to get her father to rise and stumble out after her, towed by the tight grip a small hand had on one of his fingers. "Can we go up to the temple and sit by the rocks? You keep saying you'll go with me!"

"I'm sorry, hun, I've been busy."

"With your hero business, I know dad. But you're here now, let's go together!"

The man looked down to his little girl with a small smile, then gave a nod. The girl cheered and began leading her father up the path, a bounce to her step and a grin on her face. She looked so much like her mother with that golden blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. His wife. The wonderful woman who'd put up with him for all those years. The life of a hero was a demanding one – this, she understood. They both knew, when they tied the knot, that their relationship would be put under the strain of time and distance.

But time and distance held no victory over their love. Each and every time, he would leave her with the promise of his return. Under that promise, she would wait for him. No matter the weeks, months, years – she continued to love him, and continued to feel his love returning to her on the nights where the loneliness was at its strongest. Together – and apart – they made it work.

Next to their daughter, his wife was the prettiest girl who ever lived, and with the title of a world-traveler on his shoulders, he could confidently share such a statement with any he met.

"Keep up, Dad! You can't expect me to drag you the whole way there, you're heavy!"

The man laughed, took his girl's hand and adjusted his pace to match hers.

Together the pair trekked up the dirt path, the girl rambling about everything and anything that came to mind while the man simply admired the life he'd helped create. Her hand was warm in his, her smile equipped with such magnetism that all passerbys were drawn to chuckle at her enthusiasm. Her tongue only stilled when they had both settled on the hill beside the river, looking down onto Oakfield with a mutual expression of tranquility.

"I really love it here, Dad."

"Me too, Catherine."

"Are you going to stay for long this time?"

"Yes," the man reached to his chest. His large fingers fumbled with the straps, mimicking the movements of the smaller, dainty digits of his wife's, as he'd seen her do expertly so many times. As he undid the belts and straps keeping him armed, his cutlass and rifle fell to the ground behind him. The blue markings on his skin seemed to fade with one long breath he released from tired lungs. When he was through, he brought his arm around the girl's small shoulders and pulled her close to him, taking one of her hands in his opposite and holding to it tightly.

"How long, daddy?" she asked, snuggling into his side with a bright smile.

"Forever, sweetheart."

Little Catherine breathed a happy sigh, looking down into the town with a satisfied light in her eyes.

"Catherine," the man was surprised by his own voice, suddenly so much quieter than what it had been moments before. It was little more than a whisper when it passed his lips, but it succeeded in getting her attention regardless. She tilted her head back and smiled a goofy smile up at him.

"What's up, Daddy?"

She giggled.

"Catherine," he repeated, quieter. His voice broke and his chest shook. Her face seemed to ripple before his vision like a disturbance on the water. The vibrant colours around them faded, dulling to tones of sepia. Again, the scene rippled, distorting in front of him until his own face stared back at him – old and worn and tired – from the drags of alcohol at the bottom of a mug.

Warm tears traced lines over his cracked skin, snaking their way to the tip of his nose before falling into the murky liquid below. A sob wracked its way through his body, shaking his weary bones to the core until the man could still himself again. Cold and alone, the man shut his eyes, desperately trying to cling to the fading sound of laughter in his ears until there was nothing left to hear.

His heart, beating, pumping the blood that blessed him with such curses, never ceasing, never silent, continued on into the dark, filling the hush with such a noise and such an ache the man could do little against another onslaught of tears. He'd strength only enough to breathe that name into the night as he was forced to accept the consequences of his actions, to stare them down until they tore him apart from within.

He would've given the world to save them.

He only wished he had.

"Catherine..."

* * *

><p><strong>"The Choice" has so much more weight to it when you were attached to what you'd lost.<strong>

**Suffer with me, fellow do-gooders! We shall weep all manly-like together.**

**Thanks so much for reading, it'd be super-awesome if you could review, too!**

**Toodles~**

**Shmee**


End file.
